Where the Streets Have No Name
by eleventhirty
Summary: Based on the events of MP1 and MP2. In spite of fear and uncertainty, the assassin and the mobster were in love. But an act of cowardice leaves Vinnie to face life alone, wondering if his was a life worth saving.
1. Shatter day

_Don't own; never will. Don't sue._

_Enjoy!  
_

_~Rhiannon  
_

* * *

**Part one****: Shatter day**

_As told by Vinnie Gognitti_

My hands trembling, I fumble with the childproof cap on my bottle of painkillers. The smooth orange plastic slips within my sweaty grip, and I can't help but feel like the bottle is mocking me. My head continues to pound like a drum, and it takes each lingering shred of my resolve to keep it together, if only for another moment.

She's gone.

She's gone and I'm alone.

It's this realization that seems to get the bottle to take pity on me, as the cap falls easily to the side. White capsules fall to the dark wood of my desk like snowflakes as I stare at them transfixed. Will these pills really be what my life is reduced to? God, what have I become?

Hot tears trickle down my cheeks as I swallow three of the pills, washing them down with half a glass of lukewarm vodka. Knowing that this was a gift from that fuck Vladimir Lem makes me want to throw the bottle from my open window, but I need the alcohol far too much to do more than just briefly consider it. It's this white hot flair of anger that's keeping me centered, and I swear that the next time I see the Russian, it'll be *his* brains strewn across the streets of New York.

And it's this thought that has me crouching over my trashcan, my stomach threatening to expel my hard earned medication.

She fucking deserved better. Mona…Mona deserved to see an end to all this bullshit, not have her life ended in less than a second by a cowardly fuck. It only took one bullet to take away everything that ever mattered to me.

But I did nothing.

I know I'm a coward by nature, but even I should have done something…*anything* to save her from the darkness. As Lem finished Payne off with a bullet of his own, I remained hiding in the closet, biting the arm of my suit jacket to keep from screaming. As deeply as I cared for her, I couldn't bring myself to interfere and risk that it would be the day when my nine lives finally ran out.

One of my henchmen enters my office without asking, sending my pain rip-cording down into my shattered psyche. I pour myself more vodka, shooting him what I think to be a pretty convincing glare of death. "The fuck you doin' here?!"

I suppose my temper is legendary, because he doesn't seem phased at all by my outburst. "Boss, you're not going to believe this." I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Payne is alive! Tony and I saw him just over an hour ago leaving…"

Suddenly, my anger is no longer for show.

I seize an object from the corner of my desk and hurl it against the cinderblock wall, realizing all to late that it was my Captain Baseball-Bat Boy bobble-head. The painted ceramic explodes on impact, sending colored shards falling around us both like confetti. "*FUCK* Max Payne! The only rat bastard I'm interested in finding is Vladimir Lem!" In the midst of my blind rage, I pull my pistol from the top drawer of my desk and aim it at my stunned goon. "I swear ta Christ, the next fuck that comes in to see me without the head of the Russian is going to get two between the eyes! Understand?!"

My henchman's eyes are the size of dinner plates, and all he can do is nod and flee my office with his tail between his legs. Of course, I know it's wrong of me to threaten my underlings, as it does nothing but cause dissention in the ranks. But that doesn't matter to me. Nothing does.

Not anymore.

I can feel a lump beginning to form in my throat, so I down the rest of my vodka to wash it away. Why didn't Vlad just kill me too? Surely, it would have been less painful than trying to muddle through this half life.

The tears fall freely now and I don't even try to stop them. Mona was my angel. If it wasn't for her, I would have died back on that rooftop after Payne shot me. I…I was sure it was all over as I lay bleeding on that filthy street. But Mona saved me from the darkness. For reasons that I to this day cannot process, she brought my broken and bleeding body back to her own safe house, where she nursed me back to health. My skepticism soon faded under her soft skillful touch, and before the week was out, we were lovers.

And it scared the shit out of me.

It's no real secret that my track record with women isn't exactly the greatest. My work keeps me pretty fucking busy, and when I do give into the needs of my body, it always costs me at least 5 Gs. Everything else in my fucking life is a merry-go-round of chaos, but it's only within sex where I feel like I have a single iota of control.

Mona wouldn't let me have that.

There'd be no way that she'd let me use her as the teenaged hookers that were my partners of choice would. Our first few times together were little more than an awkward ballet, with both of us desperately after control. Eventually though, I came to realize something critical.

Mona Sax was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

So I allowed myself to freefall into the abyss, certain that it would all be worth it. And fuck…Mona did not disappoint. That was certainly the best fucking sex I've ever had, hands down. When I'd recovered enough from my injury enough to go back to my own world, I figured that was it; there'd be no way my relationship with her could continue. But as she'd done before, Mona proved me wrong. Every three days or so, my angel would appear at my penthouse and we'd fall into bed without speaking. Make no mistake about it, Mona Sax was a drug and I could never have my fill.

Even though we never discussed it, I could tell that the tone of our rendezvous was beginning to shift. In the weeks prior she'd run right to the shower after the climax had subsided to wash away all remnants of my touch. Mona would then leave without so much as a goodbye, which was just fine with me. But she'd started lingering with my embrace for longer and longer intervals, until she eventually spent the night.

Only then did I realize that I loved her.

It had been so long…so *fucking* long since someone just held me that I managed to convince myself that I didn't need it. While fantastic, the sex became secondary to the feeling of her warm body in my arms, her heart pounding against my chest. While we never said the words, I could see in Mona's eyes that there was at least a small part of her that cared for me.

But then it all came crashing down.

Payne loved her. I would have to be fucking blind not to see it. Mona maintained that she didn't feel anything for him, but it was only too obvious that she was falling under his spell. It wasn't long before the nights we once shared disappeared completely, leaving me cold and alone and trying desperately to convince myself that I didn't care. After all, with Punchinello gone, I was the new head of the family. Now that I had all the power to do with what I chose, I only had one priority.

To kill Max Payne.

It was my hatred that ultimately fueled my downfall. So great was my need for revenge that I was willing to work with anyone that could get the job done. I would have sold my soul to the devil himself, if that's what it took to get Mona back in my arms.

Which I did.

Only this time, the devil took the form of Vladimir Lem.

From the beginning, I knew that Lem would get the job done. Although our past together was spotty at best, he was the most cold, calculating dickbag I knew. Payne would be dead within the week, and Mona would be mine once more.

Except for the fact that that fuck sold me out.

I should have expected it. I really, really should have. But the night that Lem and his goons burst into my garage and slaughtered almost all of my men, I was so shocked that I couldn't even process it. But leaving me crippled and alone wasn't enough for the Russian. Oh no. At gunpoint, he forced me into a specially rigged Captain Baseball-Bat Boy costume. Taking the damn thing off would result in me being blown to bits, yet even that paled in comparison to what I believed to be Lem's main reason for trapping me in the costume.

Everyone would laugh at me. It was the actualization of what I thought to be my worst fear.

I can't even tell you how long I remained in my office, my white hot anger cauterizing the tears that I desperately wanted to shed. It was all over. Do not pass go…this was your life Gognitti…hope hell isn't as hot as they say. Because of my angel, I'd managed to cheat fate once and I really didn't like the odds of it happening again. But I suppose like has a funny and horrible way of working out sometimes, because my savior just so happened to be the one person I wanted to see dead more than any other.

Max. *Fucking* Payne.

He at least had the courtesy not to immediately laugh in my face at my current predicament. Payne apparently had his own score to settle with the Russian, and the enemy of my enemy became my friend. Or at least a distant facsimile. With his help and that aggravatingly effective way he had of dodging bullets, we managed to flee back to my penthouse. Once there, he managed to disable to bomb within the suit, all the while biting back riotous laughter at my Captain Baseball-Bat Boy collection. I would have used his fucking brains to decorate my wall, if it wasn't for his next comment.

We had to get to Mona.

It was the only thing he could have said that I actually agreed with.

Payne was the one that drove to the funhouse, leaving me to stare out the window at the familiar scenery in silence. With each passing block, the lump in my throat would swell until I could barely breathe. In only a few short minutes, I would be seeing her.

Everything was finally starting to go right.

During the short time I'd called Mona's funhouse my home, she always kept the animatronics running. I could only speculate as to why she did it…maybe she used the decaying figures as a security system of sorts against trespassers. Hell, for all I knew, Mona was desperately lonely and liked to pretend they were real. But that night, the funhouse was silent. The animatronics were frozen as if in time, making me feel eerily as though I was Medusa. Glimpses of knives and guns and twisted smiles assaulted me from all corners of the building, which made my blood run cold. This was it. I'd finish off Payne once and for all, and Mona and I would run away together. We'd live happily ever after, and all that shit.

But that's not the way it happened.

Lem was hiding in the shadows like the rat bastard he truly was at his core, waiting to ambush us. Fuck, I don't know why either Payne or myself didn't see this comming. Surely, my desire for Mona was clouding all rational thought. We were fucking idiots to go to her when we knew that Lem was still alive, but none of that made a difference to me. When I saw her...when our eyes met for the first time in that massive ocean of time we spent apart, it was like comming home. I can still remember every detail about the way she looked at me. Although her face was ever emotionless, her eyes were awash with confusion, desire, and an emotion that I still can't quite place. Even though Payne was in the room, it was like the world narrowed down to a tunnel that could only hold Mona and myself.

And then she fell.

And then I hid.

Here I am, three days later, with a heart that shows no sign of mending. My head feels like it is made of granite, and I fall to the desk below, feeling painkillers stick to my sweaty forehead and not caring. Disgusted, I push the bottle of vodka to the floor, barely comprehending when it shatters. My mind wanders back to the nights that Mona and I spent together, and I miss her so unbelievably much it hurts to breathe.

I can't do this anymore.

I won't.

It's almost laughable, if you think about it. It was my fierce desire to live that kept me from acting to save the woman I loved, yet my life has become nothing but a burden. Something that I can cast aside, if I so choose. My hand shaking, I take the gun back out of my drawer and place it on the side of the desk. Harsh, horrible laughter bubbles out of me like a geyser, and it isn't long before I'm in absolute hysterics to defy the tears that keep falling. No one will mourn me. Hell, the fucking city might even throw a parade to honor my cowardice.

And as Captain Baseball-Bat Boy watches solemnly from his disjointed state on the floor, I press the barrel of the gun against my temple.


	2. Red Rain

**Part two****: Red Rain**

_As told by Mona Sax_

It's the absence of pain that scares me.

Ever since the first bullet entered my brain, the agony that followed was a friend. It didn't matter what else was going on in the ever-changing entity that was my life; the white hot fire of pain was a constant. As long as I hurt, I was alive.

But now it's gone, and I don't know how to get it back.

It was Lem's poor attempt at assassination that did it. When the bullet from his desert eagle pierced through my skull…I don't know how it happened, but it silenced the first bullet. Perhaps it was heartsick for a companion. Or maybe adding a second chunk of metal to my brain completed a connection that had been fractured.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

Nobody sees me. That's kind of eerie. I'm standing in the doorway of the new head of the Punchinello crime family, and not one person has challenged my presence. Hell, maybe I have become a ghost. All I can do is stand helplessly by, watching as he sobs bitterly. I can't move. I can't speak. And even if I could, I wouldn't know what to do for him. Vinnie's head is down on his desk, the honey blonde curls obscuring his face. Even though I can't see his pain, his cries are heartbreaking.

I suppose this is the $64,000 question though. Do I care?

God that thought is cold, even for me. Vinnie and I have…history…together, and I can say with absolute certainty that he is one of only a handful of people that has yet to betray me. But I know he couldn't. I could see the unwavering loyalty in his eyes and feel it in his touch. Which was the whole point.

He thinks I'm his angel. On several occasions, with his brain sleepy and relaxed from sex, he's called me as much. And honestly, I don't quite know how to feel about him.

It's because of Lisa that I actively pursued Vinnie in the first place. After I lost her…it was like losing myself. We were identical twins. Same face, same body. Same fucking DNA. But Lisa and I were just about as different as night and day. She was sweet and trusting, while I kept all of my human weaknesses hidden.

The logical extension of what I had to do involved an all out assault against the Punchinello crime family. Her butcher of a husband would die for sure, but everyone…every last bastard who sat by and did nothing while Lisa's life was snuffed out deserved to die as well. Death was the one thing I could deliver, and I was damn good at dealing it out. They would all suffer, although it would only be a fraction of the pain I felt in losing the most important person in the world.

But that night…everything changed.

I found Vinnie curled behind come trashcans, looking as though he too was about to be discarded. Briefly, I considered ending his suffering with another bullet, but my thoughts turned back to Lisa. I didn't get to see her very often, but during many of our countless phone conversations Vinnie Gognitti was a topic of discussion. Mostly, she spoke of him the way you would an adorable, albeit misbehaving pet. The blonde mobster's cowardice was legendary, and Lisa had me in near hysterics with her rendition of his ever-present whine. But there were a few times when my sister spoke of him with a quite respect. Punchinello was by no means a good man, and on some of the nights when he'd use Lisa as a punching bag, Vinnie was there with a sympathetic shoulder and a bag of ice. I vividly remember one evening when she'd called me in tears, saying that her husband had threatened to kill her, but Vinnie was keeping her safe at his penthouse. Why he was willing to get himself killed for a woman he barely knew was beyond me, but I was so grateful to him for protecting my baby sister.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't take his life, knowing what he had done for Lisa.

It takes a hell of a lot to make me feel. I've been taking lives for as long as I can remember, so not all that much fazes me anymore. But Vinnie's eyes that night…they'll haunt me until the day I die. It wasn't just that he was in pain. I've seen physical pain all the fucking time, and it doesn't tug at my heartstrings. What stabbed me in the psyche was the look of abject resignation in his ice blue eyes. He knew he was going to bleed to death. He just didn't care.

So I took him home with me and became his nurse, of sorts. The bullet wound in his stomach was nasty, but luckily for him nothing major was hit. For the first two days Vinnie was completely out of it, lost somewhere within a fevered dream. I remained by his side, cooling his poor overheated body with an icy cold washcloth. There were several points when I could swear that Lisa was watching this scene and smiling.

When he came to, he called me his angel. I wasn't sure if I should laugh in his face or sob hysterically.

Quite honestly, I didn't know what to do with him. Now that his condition was no longer critical, I had no idea what to do for my incapacitated roommate. Sure, I could continue to treat his broken body, but that was about it. Vinnie would simply watch me as I went about my business with his tired, shadowed, ice blue eyes. He never questioned anything that I did, and I never offered answers. But he knew too much. Now that he'd seen my hideout, I could not let him leave without some assurance that he would not betray me. And since I was not willing to harm, it that left only one option.

The sex was…beyond awkward, to say the least. I guess I could chalk it up to his nearly fatal injury, but there was something else. It was only after our third or fourth time together when I realized that Vinnie Gognitti was scared to death of me. And he fucking should be. I heard about the sick shit that he did to the teenaged hookers that he frequently fucked, and if he so much as looked at me funny, debt or debt he'd fucking lose his head. I don't know what it was, but something eventually changed within him, and he succumbed to me completely. Nobody had ever allowed me this much control over there very being before, and I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't a turn on. Never before would I have considered him in an erotic context, yet I found myself sharing my bed willingly, scarcely able to believe that he was able to take me to the very highest summit of ecstasy.

Maybe there really were healing properties to sex, because it wasn't too much longer before had healed enough to return to his own life. Which was probably for the best, because by that point, I realized that I cared for him much more that I should. I'd spent my entire adult life keeping people at a distance, although it took only one small man with bitterly sad eyes to tear it all down. God, when I looked at Vinnie, all I wanted to do was hold him close.

So he had to go.

Now that I knew what it was like to be needed, I had to forget about it for my own sanity. My brief interlude with the mobster had to be something fleeting and forgettable, like a dream. Life would continue on as usual, leaving me alone but safe.

My resolve only lasted about three days.

I'd go to him once or twice a week, pushing myself to wait until the need for human contact became unbearable. Vinnie never questioned my continuing presence in his life, allowing me to use him as I saw fit. His touch cauterized the gaping hole that had been left in my heart since Lisa's death. Although my actions were done to keep him completely dependant upon me, I found myself falling harder for him that I ever thought possible.

When I realized I'd fallen in love, I panicked.

Even though I was pretty fucking sure that Vinnie would never do anything to hurt me, the thought of being so vulnerable was one that I just could not handle. It killed me to do so, but I stayed away, forcing myself to ignore the demands of my treacherous heart.

That's when I met Max.

Our relationship was ideal. From the start, I knew that he could never love me. I was his only ally in his fight against the chaos, and as time slowly lumbered forward, I became a substitute for his dead wife. Since my heart was already sole property of the mobster, there was no danger in taking our mutually beneficial relationship to a new and painful level.

But I hadn't been able to make a clean break from Vinnie.

While few and far between, there were still nights when I felt the demons of my past threaten to reach out and drag me down to hell with them, and it was only within his arms when I knew I'd see morning. He'd allow me to take my comfort as I'd done so many times before, although I would have to be blind not to notice the pain and betrayal that screamed within his ice blue eyes. The very last night I would allow myself to be with him, he asked me point blank if there was anything going on between myself and Max. I don't know why I bothered asking; I could see the answers clearly written in the lines on his face. Of course I lied to him, telling him what he wanted to hear even though we both knew it was bullshit.

When I left Vinnie's arms that night, I ran straight to Max's.

So Max was the one that filled the rapidly expanding void in my heart that once held both Lisa and Vinnie. His touch was like a band-aid; one that could cover the massive wound in my soul although never heal it. When I was with Max I felt my thoughts wander; daydreaming of a lover with honey blonde hair and eyes the color of a December morning.

God I was far gone.

Max began spending more and more time away from me, trying to follow Lem's trail of breadcrumbs yet not seeing the big picture. But honestly, I didn't give a fuck if Vlad got the power that he so desperately desired. Vladimir Lem…The Inner Circle…they were one and the same. Once the victor emerged, I was sure that I could use my body to get what I wanted as I'd done so many times before. Lem had already succumbed to my advances once, and I was damn sure that I could get him under my spell.

I hadn't ever planned on seeing Vinnie again.

But he'd come back to me, just as he'd done in so many dreams I could not being myself to forget. I was expecting Max that night, but when I saw Vinnie…when his ice blue eyes locked onto mine once more…I was gone. I knew that Max was speaking, but I didn't hear him. I couldn't.

And then Vlad tried to end my life with a single bullet.

So here I am now, watching him sob as though his heart had shattered while wondering if I should care. Although the love I had for him was just as strong as it had always been, maybe he would be better off if he continued to think I was dead. Tears did not bother me; I'd seen enough to fill an ocean and nothing has changed for me. If anything, seeing Vinnie grieve made me want to leave him, certain that when all the pain drained from his heart he would be better off without me.

Vinnie had a pistol pressed against his temple.

And suddenly, I'm drawn to him, running to his side as though physically pulled. "Vinnie," I mutter, kneeling beside his desk.

It's as if we've been transported back to that moment in the alley when Vinnie was bleeding to death. He looks seemingly through me; his eyes apparently seeing the great hereafter. "I knew you'd come for me, my angel," he says softly, cocking his pistol in preparation for the end. "I'll be with you in just a moment."

He's actually lost it.

I seize his hand, my mind fumbling with the words to keep him from pulling the trigger. "Goddamn it Vinnie, I'm alive!" Sobbing, I press his hand against the center of my chest. "Can you feel that?! Ghosts don't have fucking heartbeats!"

I guess that my desperate attempt at keeping him from suicide worked, because there is an instant change in his eyes. "Mona," he breathes, dropping the gun to the floor with an amplified *clack*. Vinnie presses his hand fully against the center of my chest, tears gushing down his nearly translucent cheeks. I'm almost afraid of the amount he's crying, because his tears are everywhere. On the desk and papers below him…hell, some are even drying against my own cheeks.

I reach up to touch my face, in absolute awe when my hand comes away wet. Well shit. This is a fucking first for me. Even when I lost Lisa, my anger at both myself and the world kept me from shedding a single tear. "And I thought that I was supposed to be the damsel in distress." The impact of my joke is significantly lessened when my voice breaks.

Vinnie stares at me in disbelief, his gaze darting quickly between me and the shattered alcohol bottle on the floor. "This is real right? Because I'm not sure that I could survive another fucking dream."

What has my absence done to this man?

"It's no dream," I whisper, covering his hand with my own. All I want to do is melt into the mobster's arms, but somehow I manage to resist. While my first dangerous inclination would have been to lose myself beneath the mobster's skillful touch, somehow I am able to remain grounded in the here and now. Especially considering the fact that New York was all but collapsing around us, and if Vinnie and I didn't escape now we'd be subsumed. "Listen. We have to leave the city. It's not safe for us here, and it'll only be a matter of time until Vlad tries to kill us again." Unable to stop myself from touching him, I brush away some painkillers that clung to his forehead. "Considering I've been shot twice and lived to tell the tale I'm not worried about myself, but you..." My voice cuts suddenly when I realize that there is no going back. "I can't lose you."

"No," he says simply, his clammy hand resting against my cheek. I'm not sure how long he sat clutching the pistol to his forehead waiting to pull the trigger, but his hand smells like metal. "I'm fuckin' sick of running and hiding. Last time I tried that, it almost cost me the only thing that ever mattered." Vinnie drops his hands, pulling on his jacket. "What kind of way is for that for us to start a life together?"

That statement makes me want to equal parts run from and to him, so I chose to ignore it for now. "What the fuck can we do? Take on Max Payne, Vladimir Lem, and the Inner Circle all on our own? Because let me tell you…I'm damn good at dealing death but I have limits."

"I don't care. Goddamnit Mona, I *am* New York City. I grew up here. I'm sure I'll fucking die here. Everything I've worked for is tied to this shithole of a city." He reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Not to mention that I'm a well known mob kingpin and you're a wanted criminal. It's not exactly like we can fade into obscurity."

"True." I get to my feet and shoulder my AK-47. The fucking gun probably weighs about as much as I do, but I've come to love my awkward burden, depending on it as a child would a security blanket.

"All right, now before we do anything, we need to go out and find my men. Unless they're fuckin' screwups, they've been out looking for Lem all night. I'm hoping that one of them has some sort of a lead."

I bite my lip, desperately trying to hold back my laughter. Subtlety was not exactly Vlad's strong suit. Listen to him for five minutes and he'll tell you everything about himself, convinced that you're too weak and stupid to do anything about it. But I guess that Vinnie does not care to listen when his enemies speak. Lucky for us though, I'm practically a human fucking tape recorder. "He's probably at Woden's manor."

"The Senator?" Vinnie's blue eyes darkened in confusion. "The fuck would he be doin' there?"

My brain boggles. How could he be so damned oblivious to the world around him? "Uh…because Woden is a key player in the Inner Circle."

"There's that fuckin' phrase again." Vinnie holds the door of his office open, lightly resting his hand against my bicep. "What the fuck are you talking about? I've never heard of 'em, and I know all the shit that goes down in this city."

His car is a small, sleek red convertible that looks just slightly less high maintenance than its owner. For the duration of the drive, I try to fill Vinnie in on several years of elaborate conspiracies, all the while wondering if we should be talking about something else. Something more real. Like his suicide attempt. Or the uncomfortable yet secretly thrilling sensation of butterflies that fly through my stomach whenever I look at him. Or when he looks at me, for that matter.

We pull up to the ancient, columned manor, and a shiver runs down my spine. Nothing good will come of our reckless actions. Vinnie must be able to see emotion escaping though the cracks of the mask I always wear, because he holds me close…so close that his heart is pounding hard against my own. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, raking a hand through my hair.

"I know." Although I know that Vinnie would never push me away, I linger within the warm haven of his embrace for only a few seconds, trying to remember the last time I felt this safe. I step away, trying to ignore the flash of pain in his eyes. "So here's how we're going to do this. You break into Woden's manor and hide. In about 10 minutes, I'll force Lem out into the open. Once you can, take the shot. You probably won't get more than one, so make it count."

"No." Hearing him contradict me has me staring in wide eyed confusion, although his shadowed ice blue eyes give away nothing. "I will not let you be in harms way again. I'll distract the rat bastard; you blow his fuckin' brain out."

"Are you out of your mind?!" I seize his hand, feeling a primal terror wash over me. "I can fucking take care of myself! And anyway, I've been shot twice in the head and survived! I don't want to see anything happen to you."

"I'm doing this." He rubs his finger against the knuckles on my left hand. "I saw you fall. That fucking **haunts** me. I'll be damned to sit by and let it happen again."

Now this may be the cynic in me, but everything he just said sounds like a lot of big talk from a self-professed coward. Part of me is scared for him, although I'm about 95% sure that he will not make good on his threat. "Vinnie…"

The sheer force of love and hatred at war within his eyes leaves me instantly silent. "Please Mona. Can't you see that I need to do this for you? For **us**?!"

"All right." I touch the hair roughened skin of his arm, trying one more time to get him to listen. "Vinnie, Vlad is a monster. All he cares about is getting his stupid revenge and making as many people as he can suffer in the process."

"I don't care." Vinnie's lips press hard against my own, making me wince at the harsh contact. His mouth is dry, I suppose from dehydration brought on by his alcohol consumption. Of the top five kisses I've ever had in my life, his assault is not one of them.

But I need him.

I thread my fingers though his silken blonde curls, holding him close and claiming his mouth with the same bruising thoroughness that he took mine. I cannot bring myself to close my eyes and risk finding myself trapped in another passionless night in Max's arms, so I watch him as he kisses me, feeling my heart tighten as a new surge of moisture begins to pool beneath his eyes. "I love you," I breathe, desperately hoping that through our kiss Vinnie did not hear what I'd just said.

But he did.

I'm sure of it.

After another minute or so in Vinnie's arms, I pull away, resting my hand against his cheek. "I'm going to go now. I've been here before…if you can, try to lure Vlad to the main atrium. There are some large statues and columns on the second floor, so I'll probably wind up hiding there."

"Okay." I'm expecting to see at least a small amount of fear or uncertainty in his eyes. But there isn't any. Either this man has become incredibly brave in my absence, or incredibly stupid.

"I'll keep you safe," I whisper, brushing my lips against the salty river of tears on his cheek. He doesn't answer me, but the slow trickle of moisture on his face begins to flow faster. I almost want to ask him what his tears are for, but there is just no time. There never will be. Vinnie removes a desert eagle from his trench coat, the tears still streaming down his face as his eyes wordlessly plead with me not to leave him. But I have to. His very life depends on how well I infiltrate Woden's manor. I slip through a partially open window in his atrium, my hand closing tightly around my AK-47. Someone more than certainly used this as a point of entry.

The sight before me makes my stomach clench hard.

Vlad was certainly here all right, for the large marbled space is filled with death. Woden is certainly no idiot when it comes to his security, but all of his elite guards are either dead or dying. The scent of blood hangs heavy in the air; a warm metallic cloud that fills my lungs and makes me want to gag. But I make no sound. I've been trained far too well.

Noises upstairs at least let me know that there is still some life within these red-stained walls. Although I can't quite hear what they are saying, people speak loudly and jovially in Russian. More than likely, Vlad and his man are celebrating a slaughter well done. But I don't have much time to examine the details. Vinnie will be here in minutes, and I cannot allow him to face this alone. I silently make my way up the stairs, hiding in the shadows even though no one else is around.

I crouch behind a large potted plant in the corner of the room. This is not an ideal hiding place, and I feel completely exposed, even with the darkness and the leafy plant to protect me. But it will have to do. I prop the gun against my shoulder and aim at the door to the study. As soon as Vlad shows himself, I'll drop him.

The front door sails open, crashing against the wall with a bone-breaking *thud*. "Lem!" Vinnie snarls, aiming his desert eagle wildly around the darkened room. "Come out 'a hiding, you cocksucking rat bastard!"

From behind the closed doors of Woden's study, the merriment seems to stop, replaced by quiet, hurried conversation. After a few moments, two of Lem's men burst out of the room, their assault rifles trained at Vinnie.

"Now now gentlemen, such violence is not necessary." Lem appears on the third floor balcony like a creature from a nightmare, grinning wolfishly down at my mobster. "Vinnie, dearest of all my friends! What brings you here tonight? Shouldn't you be at home playing with your little toys?"

"They're **collectables**, you sadistic Russian fuck!" Vinnie's eyes are practically ablaze with hatred. "But we've got a fucking score to settle."

"Do we?" Vlad steps forward, although his change of position means that I can no longer see him. Fucking hell. I'm loathe to leave my hiding spot, but I cannot allow anything to happen to Vinnie. Steeling my resolve, I slip silently into the shadows, hoping that Lem's men will be too distracted by Vinnie to pay me any mind. If I can get to the other end of the hallway…Vlad is a dead man. But the Russian, of course, senses no danger, and continues his mockery of my lover. "You've gotten what you want. Payne is dead. So why don't you run along before things get nasty?"

I can't see Vinnie from where I'm standing, but the determination in his voice makes my heart swell with pride. "Fuck you! I'm not fuckin' afraid of you, you murdering jerk off!"

"Then you are surely stupider than I thought."

I never saw them hit.

It's funny.

I should have heard them sneak up behind me. Fuck…that's what I **do**. But I guess that I was so focused on getting to Vinnie that I didn't notice Vlad's goon until he pistol whipped me in the back of the head.

The pain I'd been so desperate to feel was back in full force, but for the first time, I don't want it.

It was dark.

Too dark.

Hold me Vinnie.

I need you.


	3. There is a Season

_Author's note: Just as a warning, this chapter has officially moved into the land of the Alternate Universe. And thusly contains implied main character death. So be forewarned._

**Part 3****: There is a Season**

_Narrated by Max Payne_

My hands are twin blocks of ice that I stick into the pockets of my jacket, although the buttery-soft leather does nothing more than irritate my chapped skin. Woden's manor is a dark imposing cavern of a building in the moonlight; a life-sized Victorian dollhouse straight from a child's nightmare.

I don't feel anything. No fear. No anger at the men and all of the evil acts that they commit within the lavishly decorated confines of the manor. I'm as numb as my wind-chapped hands. When Mona was alive, I could at least pretend to care for another human being, although it wasn't real. She was a pleasant enough distraction from the heart-stopping pain that I felt when I thought about Michelle, although there was no way that I could even pretend that the animalistic lust that overtook me when I touched her was love. But now that she's gone…it's like the remaining shreds of my emotion died along with her.

So why am I even here?

I don't care about saving the world. I'm not a fucking superhero, and my naïve dreams of being one died along with my wife and child. How can I even think about being a savior to a city of eight million people when I couldn't even protect the only two that ever mattered to me? Maybe running in to slaughter my former friend is my unconscious way of committing suicide. Vlad's not exactly a pushover, and I'm sure that I have a 50/50 shot of leaving the manor with my skull intact. Even with my dumb luck and a sixth sense for avoiding bullets.

The front door is very slightly open, with a sliver of light illuminating the dirty concrete walkway like a golden path. Follow the yellow brick road Max. I'd have to be a fucking idiot to march right in through the front door so I back away, scanning the building for another point of entry. There's an open window on the third floor, but there's nothing for me to climb on, and I can't exactly scale a vertical wall Spiderman style. Thankfully, I notice a small basement window off to the side of the house, and if I shatter the glass and hold my breath, I just may be able to force myself through. Or cut my stomach open on the jagged glass. But I guess that luck is on my side because I'm able to force the window open just by jiggling it free from its paint-incrusted frame. For a man so damn concerned about his security, Woden should really learn to lock his windows. I slip beneath the precariously hanging window, trying not to notice that a large spider was inches from my face.

Not my idea of a good night.

The basement is pitch black, save for the one tiny window that allows some of the silver light from the moon to filter in. I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness before charging into the uncertain territory of the Senator's basement. Really, the last thing I want to do is knock myself unconscious wandering around like an idiot down here. I bet that would be quite an interesting little present for Vlad or Woden to find. Within a few minutes, the thick velvet blanket of darkness dissipates a little, allowing me to see object-shaped blurs. I stumble somewhat drunkenly though the obstacle course of the basement, feeling my heart leap a little when I see the holy grail of the basement door. Light infiltrates the dark room around the entryway, making it look like a mystic portal. Or the gateway to hell. I clutch the wooden railing with both hands, barely able to suppress a small yelp of shock when a splinter lodges into the fleshy pad of my ring finger.

"You **FUCKING** bastard!"

That's Vinnie's voice.

I clench my hand into a tight fist, trying not to notice that it drove the splinter even deeper into my hand. I tried to focus on the pain, as it helped to tamp down the white-hot flame of my anger. It was his fault that Mona died. I fucking _knew_ that he was in the room with us, but he did nothing to stop Vlad as he snuffed out her life. Smiling crookedly, I unholster my silenced berretta. May as well take out two murdering bastards while I'm at it.

I push the basement door, feeling my heart flutter when it creaks loudly in protest. The old man has all the fucking money in the world, yet won't invest in something as simple as a can of WD-40. I wait a moment before continuing, although when I hear Vinnie's thickly accented screams continuing, it doesn't seem like I have much cause for concern. Let them kill each other. It'll save me the bullets.

Unfortunately, things are never quite as simple as they seem.

I take a few steps into the kitchen, blinking against the harsh artificial light and feeling like a mole forcibly dragged from the earth. There's a man here with me, although he's picking though the contents of the sparsely filled refrigerator with the same delicate precision as someone excavating an ancient treasure. Briefly, I think of just leaving him to his gluttony, although paranoia will not allow it. In fact, I like to think that it was the paranoia and not my own actions that placed the cold muzzle of my gun to the back of his head and fired. He falls forward against the clear plastic shelf, bright red blood washing over the carton of leftover Chinese takeout and half-empty bottle of Vodka.

Vodka. I smirk. Damn Vlad…could you *be* any more of a stereotype?

"Time to fuckin' die asshole!" Vinnie snarls, as though forcing each word through clenched teeth. "You took away the only thing that ever mattered to me!"

And you've done the same to me, you cowardly fuck.

I crack the kitchen door slightly, waiting for the perfect moment to make my presence known. I am barely able to believe what I'm seeing. Vinnie has a desert eagle pressed against the flawless white cotton of Vlad's linen suit, his eyes practically crazed with anger. But this doesn't seem to flap the Russian's poise, because he's leaning casually against one of the sky blue walls, his arms crossed nonchalantly as though waiting for a bus. He takes out a pack of cigarettes, although the scrawny Italian is quick to backhand them out of his grasp. "Oh come on Scarface, I did you a favor. Mona was a conniving whore with no concept of love. Of course, I'd still fuck her." He pauses for a second. "Come to think of it, I already have."

Right then, I hated Vlad more than ever.

"You mothafucka!" Vinnie screams, his face practically fire engine red from anger. "NOTHING gives you the right to talk about my angel…you hear me?! NOTHING!" He slams Vlad's head against the wall, and the blue paint cracks beneath the impact.

That's about all of this bullshit I can take.

Holding my breath, I slip out of the room, skulking though the shadows like a cat burglar about to score big. Luckily for me, neither man is at all aware of my presence, as they're too busy juggling insults back and forth. In fact, I'm pretty fucking home free. I can probably just walk up behind them both and blow their brains out before they have any idea that I'm even still alive.

Until my hip decides to get up close and personal with the end table.

"Ah Max…dearest of all my friends!" Vlad's grin was wolfish. "I am so glad you could come to this little party. I was getting lonely with just Gognitti here."

When Vinnie turns to face me…I'm not sure how to even begin describing the look in his eyes. It's as though someone reached into his chest to remove his still-beating heart. "Ah fuck…not you!"

I smirk at him, savoring his depression as one would a fine wine. "And hello to you too Vinnie. You don't seem happy to see me."

There's a lot of awful things I could say about Vlad.

He's a murdering black-hearted bastard certainly. And a worthless waste of skin. But Vlad sure as shit isn't stupid. While Vinnie's distracted by me, the Russian strikes as quickly as a snake, snapping the scrawny mobster's wrist and grabbing the neglected desert eagle in one fluid motion. I reach for my berretta to end this all right here and now, but Vlad already has the cold metal of his gun pressed against my temple.

And I thought I was the one with the inhumanly fast reaction time.

I feel my smirk stretch out into a twisted grin as Vinnie starts sobbing, muttering to himself in Italian words that I'm sure Vlad and I have no right to hear. Vlad skims his hand down the small man's cheek, chuckling as Vinnie flails helplessly at him with his shattered wrist. "There there Vinnie. Love is pain, is it not? But let me offer you both this one assurance. After I end your miserable lives, I promise to take good care of Mona for you."

Hatred burns a fiery inferno in my soul, although it somehow manages to pale in comparison to the vitriol I feel toward the skinny Italian. How can he even dare to dream that Mona…*my* Mona would ever feel anything for him other than distain? Hearing Vinnie sob is enough to soothe my shattered nerves, although the demanding poke of the gun on my forehead keeps me grounded in the here and now. I glare at Vlad, wishing more than anything for these two incompetent gangsters to have massive coronaries right then and there. "Go to hell."

"Why Max my friend…I think that your anger is sorely misplaced. I've been very honest with you from the very beginning." He leans conspiratorially in towards me, although the gun between us keeps his closeness to a minimum. "I'm not the one who's been boffing your girl every night."

"You're a fucking liar."

"Am I?" He looks like the Cheshire Cat; all gleaming white teeth and a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. "It's pretty damn hard to believe I know, but it seems that our little Vinnie here has been sticking it to Mona for several months now."

Forgetting Vlad for the time being, I turn my berretta to the weeping mobster, jamming my gun against the center of his chest. I want to pull the trigger and finish him as I should have done back across that infinite ocean of time, but I can't. Not yet at any rate. Besides, Vinnie's so far gone that I don't think he'd even mind if I took his life. "What the fuck do you have to say for yourself, you filthy fucking coward?! Don't think that I don't fucking know that you're the one that got her killed in the first place." When Vinnie's only response is to continue sobbing, I hook my pointer finger around the trigger, barely able to keep myself from squeezing it.

Vlad watches this scene with amused contentment, the gun remaining an unspoken threat against my head.

He turns his eyes up toward the second floor, harsh angry lines of tears sparkling against his cheeks in the muted light of the foyer. "I'm sorry angel," Vinnie whispers, searching the shadows of the balcony for something that quite clearly does not exist.

It all takes less than a second.

Two loud *pops!* split the air.

Vlad falls to the floor, his blue eyes forever unseeing.

A fire of pain rips through though my abdomen, leaving me crippled and clutching my midsection.

Mona appears atop the landing, her beautiful face frozen in mocking pity.

This can't be happening.

I drop to my knees, trying to forcibly hold in my lifeblood as it tries to exit my torso. Of course I'm unsuccessful, and a crimson waterfall of all that I am gushes out of the bullet wound with the intensity of a fire hose. Everything starts to grow fuzzy as I watch in wide-eyed shock as Mona runs into Vinnie's arms, kissing him with an intensity that she's never shown me. "Sorry that took me so long," she whispers, cradling the misshapen blob that was once his fully functional right wrist.

He holds her tightly, which makes my own arms feel hopelessly empty. There was a time not all that long ago when I was the one that was able to hold Mona with that kind of careless ease. "It's over," he whispers, skimming his unworthy hand across the tightly-bound brown silk of Mona's hair. "We're free."

She glances dispassionately at me, surveying my broken form with the scientific indifference that you would a lab rat awaiting dissection. "We'll never be free," she says sadly, untangling herself from his arms and approaching my prostrate form. Thick darkness threatens to wash over me, and although I try to struggle against it, I can feel that it's a losing battle. "Sorry Max." I open my mouth to speak, although no noise can escape my locked throat. I can feel my eyes screaming with pain and betrayal, but it's quite apparent that she doesn't care. "You were a real angel." I feel her reach down to take the unfired berretta from my hand. She aims at the center of my forehead, the ice in her eyes making it perfectly clear that she is willing to fire.

Vinnie stands beside her, resting his hand against her arm. "Don't," he says softly, looking seemingly though me. "He showed me some mercy a while back. Let me repay the favor."

She shrugs, taking the clip out of my gun and dropping it to the floor in disgust. "Whatever."

I almost wish she had killed me.

It would have saved me from having to watch as she held the mobster close, her mouth meeting and holding tightly to his. Vinnie moans low in his throat, snaking his arms around her slender waist and kissing her back with equal abandon. "C'mon," he whispers, closing hand tightly around hers. "Let's get out of here."

"Where can we go?" Mona looks to him with love, which makes my blood boil. I've lost. I'll truly never be with her again.

"Anywhere." Vinnie brushes his lips against her forehead. "It doesn't matter where we end up as long as I'm with you."

"Can we leave New York?" She shakes her head as she stares at my broken and bleeding body once more. "There's nothing good here. I…I know that this is where the family is and all but I don't think we'll ever be free…"

The mobster silences her with a kiss so tender that I have to look away. "I love you," he whispers, voice breaking under the strain of more emotion than I've ever heard from him. I'm seeing things. I have to be. There's no other way that I could actually be seeing Mona standing there in Vinnie's scrawny arms with tears slowly streaming down her cheeks. If this is a joke, Death, it's not fucking funny. "My entire life is yours, angel. We can vanish into thin air, if that's what'cha want."

She nods slowly, wiping away the tears as quickly as they'd come. "I want a real life. With you."

"Then that's what we'll have." Neither Mona nor Vinnie bothers to glance back as they flee from the death-filled hollow of the mansion and all of the pain and madness in this filthy city. Had the darkness not been so very inviting I'm sure that I would have cared more about Mona's violent betrayal, but I won't think about that now. I can't.

For the first time in so very long Michelle is with me.

And it's finally all right.


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Summarized by Vinnie Gognitti_

It's like a movie.

The hero finally gets the girl.

Fade to black.

But that's not the way life actually works.

Mona couldn't stand to be in New York anymore, so I pulled some strings and got us a little place in Chicago. Not exactly the greatest, but I would have fuckin' lived in a broom closet with her and been content. I wish that we had the time to get all my Captain Baseball-Bat Boy collectables, as it seemed like an absolute waste to leave them in my penthouse to get vandalized or stolen or what-have-you. But in the scheme of things, it wasn't all that important.

Given the choice between Mona and my collection, I think it's pretty fuckin' obvious which one I chose.

We're married now. Nothin' big or flashy; just her and me and the Justice of the Peace. Part of me wishes that we'd done it all the right way, with the two of us in a church with all of our family and a honeymoon in Sicily. But each time I look at her…it's heaven.

My happily ever after.

But sometimes…on the odd late night when I find sleep impossible to come by and I spend the endless hours simply watching my wife dream, I have to wonder.

What exactly follows happily ever after?


End file.
